About This Poem

“In the early summer of 2002, I made my first trip to Mainland China after a semester of teaching in Taiwan as a Fulbright Scholar. I walked for a while, and then I sat and tried to imagine the history.”—Afaa M. Weaver

More by Afaa Michael Weaver

I was parading the Côte d'Azur,
hopping the short trains from Nice to Cannes,
following the maze of streets in Monte Carlo
to the hill that overlooks the ville.
A woman fed me pâté in the afternoon,
calling from her stall to offer me more.
At breakfast I talked in French with an old man
about what he loved about America--the Kennedys.
On the beaches I walked and watched
topless women sunbathe and swim,
loving both home and being so far from it.
At a phone looking to Africa over the Mediterranean,
I called my father, and, missing me, he said,
"You almost home boy. Go on cross that sea!"